


Plums and Crummy Motel Rooms

by StuckyStoleMyHeart (angelofthequeers)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Plums, Fluff, Hugs, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 22:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10863312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/StuckyStoleMyHeart
Summary: After his cryogenic freezing in Wakanda to recover, Bucky's still struggling to come to terms with everything he's done as the Winter Soldier. Luckily for him, Steve's there to help, and he won't take no for an answer.





	Plums and Crummy Motel Rooms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LokiNeedsHugs1031](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiNeedsHugs1031/gifts), [Dean_The_princess_Winchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_The_princess_Winchester/gifts), [LerDan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LerDan/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel.
> 
> Thanks to my two best friends and one good one, I’m now total Stucky trash after a week of obsessing and I can’t decide whether I want to slap the crap out of them or hug them to bits. So this is my contribution to this Ship of Pain!

 

“Here, I got you something.”

Bucky jumps, startled out of his trance by a small plastic bag landing in his lap, and he whips his head up to see Steve standing above him, lips curved in a smile. Forcing himself to shoot a quick grin back, Bucky opens the bag to reveal a couple of round, dark pieces of fruit, and he can’t stop himself from snorting.

“Plums? The hell, Stevie?”

“You’ve been grouchy lately,” Steve shrugs, dumping the plastic bags on the shaky wooden table. As far as motel rooms go, this one isn’t the worst that Bucky’s stayed in, but he’s got a sneaky suspicion that it isn’t exactly up to code. Not that one can afford to be picky when they’re on the run with their best friend, who’s only wanted as well because of his unwavering loyalty to Bucky for _some_ godforsaken reason. Bucky’s still not sure what exactly he did to deserve Steve’s steadfast faith in him, but he’s not going to bring that up or Steve’ll put on that kicked puppy look and start spouting Bucky’s many (non-existent) virtues.

“Yeah, and? What do I need plums for?”

“You complained to me just the other day about not getting a chance to ‘eat your goddamn plums’ in Bucharest. I just thought I’d help a pal out.”

Steve dodges the plum that goes flying at his head, courtesy of Bucky’s metal hand, which had been repaired by the Wakandan scientists along with his arm.

“Manners, Buck,” he chides with a smirk. Bucky just flips him off and plucks one of the plums out of the bag, secretly grateful but refusing to actually thank Steve and acknowledge his assholery. Or maybe Steve’s genuinely being nice and Bucky’s just being the asshole here.

“Is everything okay?” Steve continues, sitting on the bed next to Bucky. He’s sitting so close that it’s a struggle for Bucky to not just lean in and inhale Steve’s scent like some kind of stalker, so he forces himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath, his whole body stiff as a rod. He can barely keep himself together at the best of times, and the mere presence of the guy who’s stuck with him through thick and thin is always nearly enough to shatter that self-control.

“‘M fine,” Bucky mutters. He forces a small smile on his face as he turns to look at Steve, whose brow is furrowed in concern. “Just not fully myself yet.”

“Are you still recovering from that cryo in Wakanda?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.”

It’s a lie and both of them know it. But the thing about Steve is that he knows when he has to push until Bucky breaks and when to just leave it be; he’s known since their early days in Brooklyn, and it’s one of the reasons why Bucky’s loved Steve even when the blond was a scrawny, pre-serum little guy.

“You should get some rest, then.” Steve reaches out and claps Bucky on the shoulder, making Bucky nearly jump out of his skin at the sudden touch. Steve removes his hand apologetically. “I’ll wake you when I’ve got some food ready for you.”

Bucky doesn’t want to be put down for a nap like some child. He wants to grab Steve, hug him until they both can’t breathe, thank this guy for sticking with him and giving up the freaking _shield_ for someone who really doesn’t deserve it. But he’s barely gotten any sleep lately, too consumed by his recovering mind and the nightmares that often take the form of Howard and Maria Stark being murdered as Tony Stark watches with a look of betrayed horror (he isn’t sure why the murder of the Starks is hitting him harder than his other kills. Possibly because Tony was Steve’s friend, and Bucky’s the one who broke that). Maybe Steve’s right and some sleep’ll do him good.

“Thought I was supposed to be lookin’ after your ass,” he grumbles as he slides under the covers, still in his jeans and grey T-shirt. Steve ducks his head, laughing, and Bucky’s insides swoop pleasantly at the sight. He’s always lived for the moments when he can make Steve laugh, even when he’s the one who needs help himself.

“Well, I like lookin’ after you,” Steve says. “You’ve always looked out for me, Buck. I like to think I’m just returning the favour.”

“Don’t know why you stick around.” The words slip out of Bucky’s mouth against his will and he tenses, turning his head to bury half his face in his pillow and let his long hair cover the other half. Steve’s silent for what feels like an eternity, and Bucky begins to think that he’s totally messed up when –

“I’m with you to the end of the line, Buck. I’ll always be there for you.”

The bed creaks as Steve stands up to go and whip up what he can in their crappy motel kitchenette. Bucky watches him through his hair for what must be a few minutes, just staring at the man who’s sacrificed so much for not just him but everyone in the goddamn world, and he wishes that he was allowed to just go over there and wrap his arms around Steve and never let go, just like back in Brooklyn. But lately, he’s touched Steve with violence far more than he’s touched Steve with kindness, and he still isn’t sure that he can trust himself, despite the Wakandan scientists reassuring him that they’d managed to deactivate his trigger words. Even without those words, he’s still a machine created to kill, while Steve’s purpose is to save. They can’t be more opposite.

Bucky’s not sure how long it takes for him to drift off into a doze. All he knows is that he seems to suddenly shift from staring at Steve to once again reliving the murders of Howard and Maria, and he can’t shut their pleas up no matter how hard he tries.

_“Please. Help her!”_

Bucky tries. He really does try to let go of Howard’s hair and rescue Maria from the wreckage. But he’s a prisoner in his own body, sentenced to once again relive how he’d smashed Howard’s head in after the man had recognised him while Maria begged for her husband, and he’s filled with dread as he stalks over to Maria’s side of the car. He knows what comes next. He’s seen this enough times that he can already feel the woman’s throat beneath his fingers, can feel her struggle to draw breath but ultimately fail and slacken around his hand, and no amount of internal struggling can make him stop. Of course, he hadn’t felt anything during the actual killing; he’d been a blank robot then, compelled to efficiently murder whoever HYDRA had needed eliminated. But now he feels everything he should have felt, though it’s far, far too late. Maybe he deserves to be forced to relive this night after night. After all, it’ll never bring Tony Stark’s parents back, or anyone else that he’s killed, but he can sure as hell spend the rest of his life regretting everything he’s done.

 _“Help!”_ Maria wheezes out as Bucky’s human fingers close around her throat. Huh. How funny that he used his human hand instead of the metal hand that was literally designed to kill. There’s got to be some sort of irony in that.

“You killed her,” says a quiet voice when Bucky lets go of Maria’s lifeless body. Bucky slowly turns to see Tony Stark standing next to him, staring at the car wreck with a look of grief in his eyes, and he tries to look away but can’t. He knows this part very well; he’s always forced to watch Tony every dream, every time he murders the Starks, and it never hurts any less with every time he relives this.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky tries to say, even though he knows that his words are empty to Tony, but nothing will escape his mouth.

“You killed both of them.” Tony raises his near-lifeless eyes to Bucky’s, seemingly looking straight into Bucky’s soul, and Bucky’s never felt more judged even though he’s dreamed this so many times.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky once again tries to say. Again, he’s rendered mute.

“YOU KILLED THEM!”

Their surroundings shift as Tony tackles Bucky, until they’re back in the Winter Soldier base. Even though Tony’s not wearing his Iron Man suit, he’s as strong as if he had been wearing the suit, and Bucky’s not sure why he never sees Tony in the suit in these dreams. Maybe it’s his mind being as sadistic as it can, forcing him to see Tony’s face. He can’t really say that he doesn’t deserve this.

“I’M SORRY!” finally escapes him in a shout. “I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!”

Tony ignores him as though he’d said nothing, instead choosing to keep beating the crap out of Bucky, who doesn’t fight back. Real Tony may have been utterly crushed, but he can at least offer dream Tony some sort of satisfaction, even if it won’t translate into real life.

“Bucky!” he hears Steve shout from afar. That’s weird. He’s never once dreamed of Steve in all the times he’s relived this. Maybe this is his chance to make things right, to stop Steve from destroying his friendship with Tony.

“No,” Bucky mumbles detachedly, though he’s not sure whether he’s saying this to Steve or to Tony.

“Bucky!”

A solid weight lands on his shoulder and he shoots upright, Tony and the Winter Soldier base dissolving in an instant. The first thing he dazedly notices is that Steve’s standing next to him, a hand on his metal shoulder and a look of concern on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Bucky,” Steve says again, sitting down on the bed, his hand still on Bucky’s arm. The bed? Oh, that’s right. They’re on the run together, hiding out in a crummy motel room so that Bucky can avoid taking responsibility for his actions, and now Bucky’s surroundings start to swim into focus.

“Hey, just breathe.” Steve’s voice is soothing and Bucky becomes aware that he’s hyperventilating, so he closes his eyes and forces himself to take deep, choked gulps of air.

“Sorry,” he finally says shakily when he’s calmed down enough to actually be coherent. Steve just gives him one of those ‘you’re an idiot’ looks that he’s so familiar with, and he actually chuckles faintly at it.

“I don’t know why you’re apologising, Bucky. You’re the one who just had a nightmare, not me.”

Bucky snorts. He’s acutely aware that Steve’s hand is still on his upper arm and he unconsciously leans into the touch, resting his forehead on Steve’s shoulder as he struggles to force the images of the dead Starks and Tony out of his mind.

“You want to talk about it?” Steve says. Bucky snorts again.

“Yep. I’d love nothing more than to confess my deep-set emotional trauma,” he says dryly. Steve frowns at him.

“I may be clueless but I know sarcasm when I hear it,” he says disapprovingly. “Talk to me, Bucky. That’s what I’m here for.”

“That’s why I _can’t_ talk to you,” Bucky says with a small, almost hysterical laugh. “You’ve done so goddamn much for me, Stevie. No one’s ever stopped and asked how _you_ are, and you’re always too busy lookin’ out for everyone else that you never take care of yourself.”

“Bucky –”

“You’ve already done too much for me, Steve. You’re a wanted man now, and I cost you your friend. I cost everyone else who helped us their freedom.”

“I broke them out, Buck –”

“I’m not worth it, Steve!” Bucky raises his head and the look of shock and hurt in Steve’s eyes makes his insides twist nauseatingly. “Why are you doing all this for me? I’ve killed, and I’ve done horrible things, and I tried to kill _you_! Now you’re not even Captain America anymore! You gave that up, and your freedom, and all because you’re standing by me for _some_ godforsaken reason!”

“I already told you, Buck.” Steve’s voice is as hard as the metal in Bucky’s arm and Bucky tries to flinch away, but Steve gently grabs his chin and forces him to keep looking. Steve seems to study him for a moment and then his face changes from steely determination to hurt puppy in the span of seconds. “I’m with you to the end of the line. You don’t know how much it destroyed me when I thought you were dead. And besides, Captain America doesn’t mean anythin’ if I don’t stand up for what’s right. Even if you weren’t my friend, I couldn’t just let you get arrested or killed for something you had no control over, Buck. That’s not right.”

Steve’s face is so close that if Bucky leans in just a fraction, their lips would meet. But he won’t do that. He won’t mess with Steve like that. Steve’s been through so much already, dealt with so much crap, and there’s no way he could want Bucky like that, so Bucky’s not going to put Steve in the position of feeling obligated to comfort him like that.

“Even when I had nobody, I had you,” Steve continues. “You’re everything to me, Bucky. And after everything you’ve gone through, being there for my best friend is the least I can do.”

Bucky takes a deep, shaky breath, aware of just how close he is to breaking down completely. At this point, though, he’s starting to wonder if exploding would be such a bad thing, what with how much crap he’s trying to suppress and not think about.

“Just let me be there for you, Buck,” Steve murmurs. “You were there for me all the time back in Brooklyn. Now you’re the one who needs my help.”

Bucky’s whole body shudders as he struggles to hold back his tears, and he curses the fact that, even free of his brainwashing, he still can’t control his own damn body. Just as he thinks that he’s finally got himself under control, Steve leans forward and brushes his lips softly against Bucky’s. Bucky freezes for a moment, wondering if this is all just another way for his mind to fuck with him – maybe even his freedom’s just a dream, maybe he’s just stuck back underground in a HYDRA base while they brainwash him and craft him into the perfect assassin, what’s even real anymore –

“Bucky?”

Steve’s voice sounds distorted, like he’s underwater or something. The only thing that Bucky’s aware of is combing his fingers through his longish hair, yanking until the roots hurt, but even that pain feels surreal.

“Bucky, hey, breathe –”

Dimly, Bucky registers his burning chest, which makes sense considering that he can’t really breathe. He forces himself to gasp in a shallow breath, realising that he’s rocking back and forth on the bed with his knees hugged to his chest, the faces of every single person he’s killed – and that list is huge – swimming through his mind, with the faces of Howard and Maria Stark particularly prominent. How the hell can Steve stand him, after everything he’s done? And how could all those other people – Clint, Wanda, Sam, Scott – how could they let themselves be arrested for _him_? How could T’Challa want to help him, even if he didn’t kill the Wakandan king’s father? Maybe they’d just been in it to help Steve. But even so, how can Steve be this determined to help him?

“Bucky…”

The minute Steve lets go of Bucky’s chin, Bucky wraps his arms around Steve and squeezes his friend’s body as hard as possible as he rapidly inhales and exhales into Steve’s shoulder, trying desperately to stop himself from actually crying. He’s been through decades of torture, of brainwashing, of killing – why can’t he keep it together?

“I got you, Bucky.” Steve’s voice is soothing, as are the circles he rubs into Bucky’s back. Bucky draws in a sharp breath. Those back circles are what he used to do for Steve back in Brooklyn, whenever the little guy was upset – hell, after the death of Sarah Rogers, he’d stayed up all night just to rub these circles into Steve’s back. It’s weird that their roles have been reversed but at the same time, it’s kind of nice and grounding.

“Look at me,” Bucky says thickly, a self-deprecating smirk on his face. “Sergeant Barnes, reporting for duty. Watch me throw myself at my best friend because I can’t deal with my own crap.”

“Bucky, I swear I’m going to slap you,” Steve says in exasperation. “Most people haven’t been through a fraction of what you have. You’ve got every right to just not be strong for a little while.”

Bucky laughs darkly but doesn’t say anything. He finally pulls back, meeting Steve’s blue eyes, and as soon as he meets his friend’s gaze, something inside him snaps and he’s crushing his lips to Steve’s desperately. Steve won’t leave…Steve won’t leave him…Steve actually _wants_ him…

“Buck –” Steve gently pries Bucky away, and Bucky’s stomach swoops at Steve’s dilated eyes, which are roaming all over his face as though they’re searching for something. “Bucky, are you –”

“I swear, Stevie, if you wanna help me and you’re okay with this then this is how,” Bucky interrupts, reaching up to cup Steve’s face. He brushes his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks, over his pink lips, then leans in and kisses Steve, swallowing the blond man’s soft groan triumphantly. He’s loved Steve since before going off to war, even when Steve was a runt of a guy who didn’t even attract a second look from most people, and he still can’t quite believe the odds of them both being frozen in time and being shoved back together. Dear God, if not for Steve, Bucky doesn’t want to begin to imagine what he’d still be doing thanks to HYDRA.

When Steve hesitantly licks the seam of Bucky’s lips, almost as though he’s asking for permission, Bucky eagerly opens his mouth and lets Steve in as he lies back on the bed and pulls Steve on top of him. Their lips never part, except for when they absolutely have to break apart in order to wrench their shirts off, and Bucky’s eyes nearly roll back in his head at the feel of Steve’s smooth skin and muscled body against his.

“Stevie, you’re gonna kill me,” he pants against Steve’s mouth. Steve ducks his head as he laughs, and Bucky feels like he’s floating away at the thought that _he_ , Bucky Barnes, had made Steve laugh like this. Hell, _he_ hasn’t been this happy in who knows how long.

“That would be a shame, because then I wouldn’t get to do more of this,” Steve says, capturing Bucky’s lips again. Bucky groans, sliding one hand around to grip the back of Steve’s neck and cupping Steve’s face with the other, and he shivers violently and arches into Steve’s hands as they explore his body. He gasps when Steve’s thumbs flick his nipples, and Steve laughs at this but forgoes further nipple play in favour of trailing his hands down Bucky’s chest to his stomach.

“I know I was smiling but for the record, I hated seein’ you kiss that blonde,” Bucky growls, nipping Steve’s bottom lip. Steve inhales sharply.

“I – I wasn’t attracted to her as more than a friend,” he breathes. “I was just – still processing Peggy’s death –”

“That badass Brit?” Bucky laughs. “I liked her, even if she thought you were cooler than me.”

Steve laughs again and returns to kissing Bucky. When his hands trail even lower, skimming the waistband of Bucky’s pants, Bucky freezes for a moment. It’s not anything HYDRA did – thank God they hadn’t shown interest in anything like that – but even being touched like this is overwhelming, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for anybody to touch him there, even though he’s straining against his pants at the feel of Steve’s body against his.

Steve’s touches slow as he clearly picks up on Bucky’s hesitance. Bucky, however, just continues to kiss Steve as he smiles, then gently takes Steve’s hands and moves them up to his ribs. Steve, ever the gentleman, takes the hint and ensures that his hands don’t go any lower again by tangling his fingers in Bucky’s messy brown hair.

“As much fun as this is, your soup’s getting cold,” Steve says breathlessly when he pulls away for air. “You need to eat something.”

“I _am_ eatin’ something, Steve,” Bucky teases, and he’s delighted when a wide grin spreads across Steve’s face and the blond buries his laugh in Bucky’s shoulder.

“I mean food.” Steve smiles fondly and brushes strands of dark hair out of Bucky’s eyes. “But I promise that if you eat your soup, I’ll kiss you some more.”

Bucky sighs exaggeratedly, then presses one last quick kiss to Steve’s lips and sits up.

“How can I say no to an offer like that?”

He watches Steve as the man goes to fetch his soup, and he’s hit by a sudden burst of warm affection. He doesn’t know when he’ll be…well, less broken than he is now, but he’s sure that with Steve’s help, he’ll get there one day. That is, if Steve plans on sticking around.

_‘To the end of the line, Buck.’_

Steve’s words ring in his ears as he accepts his bowl of soup, and then he lets out a surprised laugh when Steve slides into bed with him and pulls Bucky into his arms, careful not to spill any soup. Yeah. He gets the feeling that Steve’s gonna stick around for a long time.


End file.
